


Postscript

by drayton



Category: The People - Zenna Henderson
Genre: Gen, some day my fic will come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drayton/pseuds/drayton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's journey after the events described in <em>Gilead</em>.  Slightly AU, in that it assumes Peter told a second story during the events of  <em>Pilgrimage</em>.  Takes place shortly before Lea decides to leave the Canyon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postscript

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JanLevine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanLevine/gifts).



**Lea: Interlude**

My days held more light than darkness now, but I felt rudderless. Around me, the People were preoccupied with the coming day of departure. Many had already chosen whether to go or stay, and all seem determined to wring one last ounce of sweetness from their remaining days together. Their purposefulness only increased my sense of paralyzation.

Now that I'd pushed the darkness aside, what should I do with myself? Where could I go? I felt unrooted, as if I didn't belong anywhere. Perhaps that's what had made it so easy for the darkness to take hold of me in the first place. Or perhaps that sense of nothingness was the fingertips of darkness, and I'd never be truly free of it.

Like Bethie, I'd found healing among the People, but the source of my pain had been no gift, but my own weakness. Would I ever be strong? What did I have to offer anyone?

When I got to the schoolhouse, I was surprised to learn that Peter was speaking tonight. It was the first time we'd had a speaker more than once.

“Hello again,” he said, looking around the crowded room as we settled into our seats. “I hadn't planned on taking another turn, but Karen persuaded me to share this story. My theme tonight is from the Psalms: 'He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.' ”

 

**Harvest**

I didn't regret setting off to find the People. With Valancy's help, Bethie had learned how to manage her gift, and I watched my sister bloom with health and happiness as the days passed.

I… wasn't blooming. Wasn't taking root. The People were welcoming enough, but still a part of me held back. In the outside world, I'd been special. In the Canyon, any ten-year-old could do the “secret” things I'd been afraid to reveal to others. Bethie's gift, properly controlled, was of great value. I was… ordinary. Not unwanted, but not needed.

At first, I believed I'd find my place in the Canyon eventually, but as the weeks passed, I felt more out of place, not less. When Bethie started walking out with Aaron Kirkland, I was secretly angry. _I_ had been Bethie's protector and provider for many years. How dare anyone take that from me?

At night, my thoughts cycled through wounded pride, loneliness, jealousy, and guilt. Didn't I want Bethie to be normal, to be happy? Hadn't I spent years praying for that very thing?

By the time my broken leg healed, I'd decided that the Canyon might be Bethie's best place, but it wasn't mine. It was time for me to return to the world.

Bethie knew, of course. I'm sure some of the others did, too. Although nobody snooped on purpose, there didn't seem to be as much privacy among the People as there is Outside. None of them tried to stop me, which made me resentful. Didn't they care?

On my last morning, Bethie handed me a present. “You know how 'Dita can charge dimes?” she said, as I unwrapped a three-panel folding picture frame, small enough to fit in my shirt pocket. “We've been doing experiments, and some of us got together and charged this in a different way.”

“It doesn't glow,” I said.

“It's not supposed to. It's a sort of signal booster. Remember when we felt the People calling to us? Now, whenever they do, this will draw others like us to you, and you to them. So you can find help if you need it. So you can find us if you need it,” she finished, with tears standing in her eyes.

I opened the frame. The left-hand side contained a picture of Mother, Bethie, and me, taken on Bethie's ninth birthday, a rare good day. On the right-hand side Bethie as an adult stood smiling next to a group of the People. The center panel was empty.

“Your life that was,” she said, pointing to the left panel, “your life that is,” she said, indicating the right, then, pointing at the center, “your life that will be. We don't know how you'll fill it; only that you will.” Now she was weeping openly, and I was almost crying myself. As I pulled her into a hug, she said, “Promise you'll come back someday. Even if it's only for a visit.”

I almost changed my mind then, but I didn't make any promises. Instead, I loaded up the car, and set off for Jackass Flat. Halfway across, I nearly threw the picture frame out the window. I was leaving to be an Outsider, not an ambassador for the People. I didn't want strangers asking the way to the Canyon. I didn't want to be reminded that the People existed.

I didn't want to be reminded that I'd failed at being one of them.

On that day, and many days after, I resisted the urge to throw away the frame. It traveled in my shirt pocket, near my heart, as Bethie had no doubt intended. Now and then, I had the impression that it was slightly warmer than it should be, but that was the only hint I had that it was unusual. It didn't make me feel closer to Bethie, or the People.

I slipped back into the role of Outsider, but didn't stay anywhere for long. I was nameless and free for the first time in my life. I had no one to support but myself. No one to answer to. No one to care.

I found the first one in El Paso. On impulse, I'd stopped at a diner for lunch, and he was there, hoping to hitch a ride going west. The moment his eyes met mine, I thought, _one of Us_.

I shook my head. “Sorry; I'm heading east.” As he turned away, I said, “Wait.” I sketched a crude map on a napkin and pulled some cash out of my wallet. “Head for Kerry Canyon. You'll be able to find the place from there.”

He stared at me for a long moment, before saying, “Thanks.” I wondered why I'd done it and whether or not he'd take my advice. I realized I'd never know. The Canyon was part of my past, not my future.

I kept going east, working jobs for weeks or months, occasionally sending a postcard to Bethie to let her know I was okay. Now and then, I bumped into the Lost Sheep, as I'd come to think of them. By now, I always carried an envelope with a map drawn on it and a little cash inside. I no longer questioned my willingness to help others find a place where I'd been unhappy. Who was I to say they might not have better luck than I'd had?

I stayed in Baltimore for almost a year, until I encountered a pair of Lost Sheep: a man and his wife, who were expecting their first child. I gave the young couple an envelope, thinking, _I wonder if Bethie's married now._ _I wonder if she's a mother_. That thought stayed with me long after the couple had gone. Bethie, who'd been a major part of my world for most of my life, could be a mother—or dead—and I wouldn't know the first thing about it, because I'd cut myself off from the past so thoroughly. Why had I done that? Why had I _wanted_ to do that?

I thought back over the time that had passed since leaving the Canyon and saw a void. I'd done very little and felt even less. I'd wanted to be special again, and I'd hoped to find someone to want as much as Bethie had wanted Aaron. Instead, I'd quickly rediscovered how inconvenient it was to have to conceal my abilities from others, and an awareness of being different had held me back from getting close to any woman who caught my eye.

I admitted a truth I'd been avoiding: being an outsider among Outsiders didn't made me special; it just made me alone. I was one of the People, whether I liked it or not. That was why I'd helped so many strangers find the Canyon. All this time, I'd been calling the people I'd met Lost Sheep, when I'd been every bit as lost as they were!

Suddenly, I found myself wanting to go back to the Canyon to try again. The People had been good to me; perhaps I just hadn't been ready to accept them and leave my old life behind. The insular world of the Canyon had seemed stifling and limited when I'd been there, but now the idea of being only among others of my kind felt comforting and safe. Perhaps I'd needed this journey to learn that my old life didn't fit anymore and that the Canyon had as much to offer as the world Outside. Mother had been right, all those years ago, when she'd told me I'd never be complete without the People.

I packed my scant belongings and started driving west.

Late one night, I stopped for coffee at a truck stop in Arkansas. As I was going in the door, a young woman came flying out and crashed into me, before apologizing and running off into the darkness. I followed her, wondering what had happened. I found her crying underneath a tree at the edge of the parking lot.

“Miss… do you need any help?”

She started at the sound of my voice, but quickly composed herself. “No. I'm sorry for making such a scene. I uh… I just lost my job, and I wasn't expecting it. I'll be all right.”

“What happened?” I said, surprised to discover that I really wanted to hear her answer. I hadn't cared that much about anything for a long time.

She shrugged. “I did a thing. I can't go back.”

“What thing?” I said, feeling the warmth of the picture frame through my shirt.

“It doesn't matter. You wouldn't understand. It's just… I thought this was a good place, that it was going to last, and it's just another mess, like always. I don't know where I belong.”

I reached into my pocket, pulled out a dime, and used Perdita's trick. In the soft glow from the dime, I could read the name on her waitress uniform: Joanna.

She gasped in wonder. “How did you do that? No one can do that! Are you different, too? Where did you come from?”

“I came from a place where we belong,” I said, realizing that I'd found my center picture, my life to be. “Let's go there.”

 


End file.
